Hitchin' A Ride
by danceydancetime
Summary: It began on a dark and stormy night... I'm sure some of us remember The French Mistake and when Sam and Dean Winchester came to our reality. Have you ever wondered what it would be like if one of us were to end up in their reality? For Connie, this very thing happens to her. Will contain some violence, minor coarse language, and minor suggestive adult themes. On indefinite hiatus.
1. Episode 1 Pilot

It was raining. It was the perfect night for a stereotypical horror movie. The girl would be caught outside walking all alone in the dark, in the storm that pelted freezing cold rain down onto the umbrella that could barely stand up to the gale force wind. In this case, that would be Connie Pike. Connie was not the typical female to be cast for such a role. Typically the young woman who would be earmarked for a tragic attack by a supernatural monster that might even end up in death would be a striking beauty. This was not the case for Miss Pike. She stood at a height of five feet and eight inches, with a slightly heavier weight than most of one hundred and forty eight pounds. Her hair was a dirty blonde; her eyes blue with a band of gold around the pupil, making them seem to be green, blue or even gray depending on what color she wore. The event that brought her to walking alongside the road was not a car that conveniently malfunctioned, but rather was the fact that her pet Pomeranian Kodak had decided to slip out the front door when she was bringing in the groceries.

Before this story begins, let's take some time to gain insight on Connie's life. She was born on April eighteenth, and was aged twenty three. Her hobbies consisted of reading, various forms of art, and spending a lot of her time on the computer. Sleeping and eating could also be included. She could sing decently, she couldn't dance to save her life, and she wasn't a genius. Connie lived with her roommate and best friend Evangeline, and obviously Kodak, in a house in Sacramento, California. Connie worked at a nearby restaurant as a waitress all day, barely earning enough to make ends meet, and planned on going to a college downtown once she had enough put aside to study to become a lawyer. What sort of lawyer? She had no idea. In fact, she had barely any idea what she was going to do with her life. Connie just wanted to live her life to the fullest and not have to worry about all of life's little problems. Who didn't? Paying taxes, catering to a boss, taking in the gibberish her professors spurted and trying to apply it to life…It was amazing she'd lasted this long.

With all these things that made her so uncertain, there was one thing that she was completely sure of. It was a little thing, a stupid thing, and most people would laugh at her. This was the scary, the creepy, the unexplained, and the supernatural. She thrived off of it. She lurked on paranormal websites, read The National Inquirer and other questionable prints, and saw every television show and movie she could. Evangeline used to be more than a little worried about her obsession, but over time she got used to it. In Connie's room were stacks of dusty old tomes of old legends and myths. She had pictures of 'sightings' posted on corkboards, and clipped out articles saved in a massive scrapbook. Her computer's internet history linked back to all sorts of interesting websites. Connie had hung little charms everywhere, a dream catcher above her bed, a bundle of rosemary above her door, as well as communion beads, bags of spices, and bowls of incense. She even had a glass decanter of salt and a silver flask of 'holy' water on the shelf above her desk.

Evangeline jokingly refused to go into her friend's room unless absolutely necessary, but in all honest truth, she was a little frightened of it. They made an unlikely pair. Evangeline was two years younger than Connie, probably five foot four, and was much lighter than Connie. She helped her grandfather at his pawn shop during the day, and took night classes online to finish high school, as she'd dropped out as a junior. She also spent a lot of her spare time online, but instead of looking up the local occult, she gamed. In all, she was a lot more normal than Connie, even though she didn't look like it. Even though Connie was into all of that strangeness, she sure didn't show it. She typically dressed in plain t-shirts and flannel, denim, and opted for tennis shoes and boots instead of heels that most women her age chose. She wore hardly any makeup, and really didn't care about how her hair looked. Eva wore mostly black, including heavy eyeliner. She wore dark skinny pants, t-shirts for the bands she listened to like Asking Alexandria and the Black Veil Brides, sweaters that were originally intended for male skaters, and black sneakers. If an outsider were to look in on their house, they'd think Connie's room would be Eva's.

Earlier in the night in which this story begins, Connie was in her room on her bed, reading her latest science fiction novel. Kodak had been spread out on his own little bed, and Evangeline was at the table in the living room, working away at her computer. After waking up late, Connie had needed to scramble to make it to work on time, and she missed breakfast. Once at work she discovered a fellow waitress had called in sick, so she had to cover for her, and she skipped lunch. Neither she nor Evangeline had gone shopping yet that week, and there was nothing worth eating in the house, so she just figured she'd skip dinner and go to the store in the morning. However, as time passed, Connie began to notice the persistent grumbling in her stomach, so, rather begrudgingly, she bookmarked her page, and tossed it aside. Grabbing her purse, she shrugged into her favorite denim jacket, and went into the living room to put on a pair of boots. Eva looked up from her laptop, and noticed her friend getting ready to leave.

"Are you going to the store?" She asked, taking the moment of distraction to stretch lazily over the back of the couch. Connie nodded, and grabbed the list of needed groceries off of the fridge.

"Yeah. Do you need anything?" She grabbed the car keys from their hook and paused by the door to the garage, looking back and waiting for a response. Eva thought for a moment and then let a silly smile spread across her face.

"How about some apple pie and vanilla ice cream?" She asked. "I've been craving it all day." Connie laughed.

"Now, that's what I'm talking about!" She winked at her, and exited the building. Flipping the light on, she paused a moment to make sure she had money. The car she entered was her pride and joy. It had been inherited by an uncle who passed away. A 1966 Shelby Mustang GT350 was her ride. It was a thing of beauty. The engine purred like a cat that got the cream. The chrome gleamed, and the paint job was a flawless jet black with white racing stripes that ran over the top of the car.

Caressing a hand over the dashboard, Connie pressed the button on her keychain that opened the garage door. Backing out, she checked her mirrors, shut the door again, and drove down the street. The sky was just beginning to open up, and the rain made the roof thrum. It was to be expected of a Sacramento winter, however. She decided that the rain would make her fall asleep, so what better way to drown it out than with a little Black Sabbath? She pushed in the tape cassette, and began belting out along with the song. Pausing at a stoplight, she drummed her hands against the steering wheel. The necklace she wore was caught in her hair, and she ran a hand under the leather strand to free it. As the light turned green, the glow from it illuminated it, revealing a replicated charm that Dean Winchester wore. Supernatural was another thing she was really into.

Not the typical supernatural that filled her room, but rather the television show. Really, it was what had gotten her into it all. She could still remember the day when it had first aired. Connie had almost missed it. She had been scheduled to go meet with another friend at the movie theatre, but the friend had to cancel. So instead of watching a movie, she'd settled down on her couch with a sandwich and a cold brown pop, and turned on the television. At first she hadn't paid much attention to it, so the current program played itself out and the commercials ran. Then Supernatural came on. She'd seen trailers for it for a while, and had been vaguely interested in seeing it. She probably would get to it in the second season or so, that was typically how it went. For some stroke of fate, however, she'd been there for the beginning, and she was hooked. Each time a new episode came on, either she was there or it was recorded. She made references, changed her style to fit in with the Winchesters, and basically plummeted down the rabbit hole into Kansas.

Connie swore up and down that someday she would get married to either Dean or Sam, or rather, Jared or Jensen. Maybe even both. Jared was just so adorable, which is why she never got the moose comparison. Dean was simply a ladies' man and she was sucked into his charm and good looks. Conventions were went to, merchandise was bought, season sets. She even made a role play blog for them online. She was obsessed. Of course she wasn't alone, but she was sure that nobody else had the same level of addiction to the show as she did. The show was as much of her life as was anything else. It made her laugh, it made her cry. When she had nothing to talk about she'd talk about the show. It, well, basically saved her. Her life had been lacking a certain passion, a certain drive. Truth be told, she was so close to just giving up. Then she discovered Hunting and she never turned back. Now she drove down the street to the supermarket, and parked in the lot. She sat in her car for a moment. The rain was pouring, and she was reluctant to get out. Turning in her seat and reaching into the backseat, she grabbed the umbrella from the floor and hurried out of the car.

Traversing through the store, she lagged by the magazine rack. Nothing of interest tonight… She rolled her eyes, and went to the back of the store to get a carton of milk. Pulling open the door, she grabbed a carton, and slowly paused. She felt…Weird. Swaying, Connie closed the door gently, and leaned her forehead against the cool glass. It took a moment for the feeling to pass. Taking a deep breath, she got the rest of what she came for without dawdling, and went to pay. She just hoped whatever came over her didn't happen again while she was driving. It might turn out disastrously. She went out to her car, and sat in the driver's seat for a moment, taking deep breaths before bothering to start the ignition. The feeling didn't come back, and she put it in the back of her mind. She'd probably just felt weird from not eating all day. She returned home, and picked up the grocery bags, trying to get everything inside in one trip. She bumped into the garage door until she managed to open the door, and quickly passed to the kitchen counter.

Dumping the bags on the counter, she turned just in time to see Kodak streak out the door that lead to the garage. Connie's heart leaped, she'd neglected to close the garage door, and by the time she made it out the dog was far down the street. "Kodak got out!" She called to Evangeline as she quickly retrieved a flashlight. "I'll be right back." Popping the collar of her jacket up, she jogged out after the mutt. The flashlight did little to illuminate her path, and she grumbled to herself. She'd have to give someone a call about getting the light bulb in the street lamp changed. She didn't see her pet on the street, and she looked toward the park they lived next to. Most likely the dog had run out there. She jogged down the street, and was a few feet away from the curb when a car went whizzing past. It near about gave her a heart attack, and she shouted an obscenity after it about how this was a 30 mile per hour zone. Shaking her head in disgust and to dislodge some of the water than ran down her face, she looked up and down the road before crossing. She was already soaked through.

When Connie was halfway across the street, another car went whipping around the corner at her, probably in hot pursuit of the other car. The headlights illuminated her, and as she turned her head to look in horror at it, time seemed to slow. Brakes squealed on the slick road, and the car spun, the rear end of it swinging toward her. She tried to lunge out of the way, but it hit her solidly and she went down. Her head cracked against the pavement, and her last thought before she passed out was that she'd have to compliment their taste in vintage cars after she killed them.


	2. Episode 2

Her head was killing her. Connie groaned, and turned her head away from the bright light shining in her eyes. Muffled voices reached her ears, and a hand was at her throat. The light switched off, and the hand removed. A ringing in her ears nearly deafened her, but a voice reached through the pain. "Are you okay?" A man asked. A woman said something in sarcastic reply to the first, and it sounded somewhat like.

"You hit her with a car, what do you think?"

It sounded like Eva, so Connie forced her eyes open. The world swam in blurry detail, but eventually it all steadied. Three faces looked down at her, all familiar. Evangeline shoved the other two away, and pressed her hands against Connie's cheeks.

"Hey, Con. Do you need anything?" She asked, her voice worried.

"Where…Where's Kodak?" Connie forced out. Eva's face disappeared, and she returned a minute later, holding a sodden and dirty puff ball.

"I heard the accident, and when I got out there, he was standing next to you." She said. Connie struggled to sit up, and two strong sets of arms helped her. She forced her head to look to either side, and she decided that she had a concussion. She began chuckling, and the other three looked worried. "Uh, Connie? What's funny?" Connie had to take a moment to calm down, the laughing hurt her head, and shrugged.

"I must have hit my head really hard, 'cause I'm seeing Sam and Dean Winchester." She groaned, and put a hand to the back of her head. Evangeline looked very confused, and Sam and Dean looked at each other in concern.

"You know us?" Sam asked, sounding confused himself. Connie arched an eyebrow at him, and shoved off of the couch. They must have brought her into her house when she was unconscious. She swayed, and hands reached out to her, but she waved them off, going into the kitchen to get a little used bottle of whiskey and a bag of ice.

"Course I know you two." She muttered, pouring the alcohol. "You two are…Uh…" She blinked lazily, the word not coming to her. "Cool." She said at last, shrugging. She held the bottle up. "Do you want any?" She asked. Sam shook his head, but Dean nodded. Sam elbowed him in the side, and his brother gave him a wounded look.

"What? She offered." He muttered. Connie got a second glass, poured the whiskey into it, returned the bottle to the back of the cabinet, and passed by Dean, pushing the glass into his hands on her way to her room. She motioned for them to follow. The brothers exchanged a look again, but obliged.

Connie sat down on her bed with a groan, and shrugged out of her damp jacket. She tossed it to the floor, and pulled up the bottom of her shirt to examine the damage done to her torso. No broken ribs, as far as she could tell, maybe bruised, a few scrapes, a lot of normal bruising… She'd gotten off relatively easy. Sam coughed in the doorway, and she let the shirt drop. "So…" He began. "You know us." Connie slowly nodded, not wanting to jostle her head. She eased back onto her pillows, and hit the whiskey back. She coughed, and let out an unladylike belch.

"Sorry." She muttered.

"It's fine." Sam came and sat on the edge of her bed carefully. "How you do know us?" Connie grinned at him

"You two are…My most favorite people in the whole world." She said. Dean smirked, and Sam looked confused.

"Why is that?" He asked. Connie jerked her thumb back at the poster of the two standing next to the Impala that was on the wall above her bed. Sam looked up, and his confusing grew.

"What?" He asked. Connie furrowed her eyebrows, and turned her head to look back at the wall. Where her little shrine to Supernatural should have been was just an empty space. Connie slid off of her bed, and ran her hand over the wall.

She felt irritated. This had to be a prank by Eva. Connie began grumbling, and stalked out of the room. "Eva! Where's my stuff?" She shouted. Evangeline's head poked around the corner of the living room.

"What stuff?" She asked in reply.

"My Supernatural stuff, duh!" Connie retorted disdainfully. "You know I hate it when you mess with it." Eva looked offended.

"All of your creepy stuff is exactly where you left it." She said. She was toweling the dog off, and he jumped out of her arms. He approached Connie, and sniffed her feet. His fur rose, and he began growling in the back of his throat. Connie's eyebrows furrowed, and she reached down to pick him up. He snapped violently at her fingers, and probably would have taken a chunk out of her if Dean hadn't grabbed her and yanked her back. Kodak began barking at her, trying to charge her and attack, but Evangeline yanked him back by the scruff, and put him outside. The Pomeranian was going crazy. He scratched at the door and threw himself against it, barking furiously. Connie looked shaken.

"Did he get bitten by something?" She asked Eva. Her friend shook her head.

"I didn't see anything…" Connie groaned, and ran a hand over her eyes. She wanted to go to sleep, but didn't feel comfortable with it if she could have a concussion. She turned, and pointed a finger at the Winchesters.

"You two. Get the car ready, you're taking me to the hospital." She commanded. They both looked confused. Connie was getting sick of all the confusion.

"Connie, wouldn't it be better for me to…" Evangeline began. Connie held up a hand.

"I've known these two for a long time. They also are the ones who hit me, so they're going to pay." She muttered, going outside. Sam and Dean exchanged one last look, and followed after her. Evangeline watched them, and shook her head, closing the front door behind them. Connie was waiting patiently by the back door of the Impala, and Dean opened the door for her. Connie slid in without a remark. Sam raised his eyebrows at Dean over the top of the car before getting in himself.

"So…" Dean began, glancing over his shoulder at their passenger. "Your name is Connie." She nodded again.

"You never did tell us how you know us." Sam said, looking back at her through the rear view mirror. Connie smiled.

"You're Jared Padelecki, and you're Jensen Ackles. Of course I know you two; you're my most favorite actors in the world." She was repeating herself. Another look was exchanged, this one more alarmed.

"We're not who you think we are." Sam finally said hesitantly. Connie frowned.

"Yeah, right. I suppose you mean to say you're actually Sam and Dean Winchester." She looked out the back window. "Hey, where's the filming crew? You'd think you'd be in a lot of trouble for hitting me…" Sam studied her for a moment.

"Actually, yeah. We are. Winchesters, I mean." He said. His face and voice were so serious, Connie went immediately sober, and she leaned forward.

"Stop the car." Dean pulled over to the side of the road, and Connie got out. She began pacing back and forth a distance away, running her hand through her hair and muttering. She had to be dreaming. Maybe she was ill, she'd certainly felt horrible earlier. Maybe she was in a coma, that accident had to be worse than she thought. Was she insane? No, no, she was perfectly fine. So either she was seriously injured in the head, or they were bluffing. Both men got out of the car, and were watching her warily.

Connie stopped, and stood to face them, her feet in a strong position and her hands on her hips. She stood as tall as she could, and gave them her most imperative look. "If you two are kidding me, I'll wreak havoc on you both." They didn't reply, and her stomach dropped. She resumed pacing. "No, no! This is not a television show. Not The French Mistake." She muttered to herself. She paused again. "I'm missing something." She studied them now, and something at the back of her mind began bothering her. It suddenly hit her. "Oh, crap! I'm in an alternate reality!"

"She's taking this surprisingly well." Sam muttered to Dean as they watched her.

"If she'd from the reality where we're actors, it must not be too weird…" He muttered back.

"Uh, Connie?" Sam called to her, stopping her mutterings. She looked at him sharply. "I think your idea of going to the hospital was a good idea." She shook her head.

"I'm fine."

"We hit you with a car!" He protested.

"No, really. I'm fine." She was actually surprised, but the more she thought of it, the better she felt. She pressed her hand to her ribs, and raised her eyebrows. It didn't hurt. She rolled her neck around. Heck! She didn't even feel buzzed from the alcohol. The only thing that did hurt was her head. A pressure was pushing on her brain like an invading force. She began nervously snapping her fingers. "So you're not Jared and Jensen?" She asked hesitantly. Dean grimaced.

"Who the hell names their kid Jensen?" He muttered in disgust. Connie pressed her fist to her mouth. Oh, crap.


	3. Episode 3

Once Connie was sure that she was not going to faint, she stared up at the night sky. The storm had passed, leaving a clear sky behind. She slowly exhaled, her breath coming out as a white puff. "Okay. I have no idea what is going on, but somehow I've managed to get myself trapped in a television show." She thought. Only it was not a television show. Everything she'd seen on a screen before would now be…Real. Why didn't that scare her as much as she thought it would? She was probably in shock and the real terror would come later. Connie briefly wondered who she was in this world. Was she an actor herself? She highly doubted it. Sam and Dean were watching her still, Dean looking annoyed after the mention of his actor's first name and Sam trying to figure out how to get her back.

She hadn't come to their reality like they had gone to hers, so they could just do what they had done to get her back. It wasn't normal to have a person cross through realities, so something must have brought her here on purpose, with a reason. What sort of being had that sort of power? Surely she wasn't in league with an archangel. Connie looked back at them. "Either of you have a cell on you? I need to make a call." They looked startled at the request, but Dean pulled his phone out of his pocket and tossed it to her. She caught it easily and began dialing a number she didn't quite recognize. The phone began ringing, and she noticed that she'd had no problem with her hand and eye coordination. It was strange because normally she couldn't even catch a basketball.

The phone picked up on the seventh ring and an older man's voice answered. "Hello?" The man's voice was gruff, and very familiar.

"Uncle Mason?" Connie asked in surprise. In her reality, her uncle had...

"Caroline! It's great to hear from you." The man exclaimed. She grimaced. Only her family called her by her real name. "Is something the matter? The last I heard of you was that you were going up to Oregon." Connie blinked, confused. What had she been up to in this world?

"Uh…Yeah. About that… Something came up. Do you think…You can come over?" She asked him, wincing. He lived in Nevada, and even though it was closer than her mother and father in New Mexico, it still was a drive. Mason coughed on something he'd been drinking, and had to take a moment to clear his throat.

"Come over?" He asked incredulously. "It's past midnight, and you're in another state!" Connie began nodding.

"I know, I know, it's just…I really, really need to see you." Something in her voice made him reconsider.

"…I'll go get packed. This had better be good, Connie." The line went dead, and slowly she lowered the phone, closing it.

She walked over to Dean, and handed him his phone. "Thank you." He nodded.

"No problem." She leaned against the Impala, her arms crossed. The pressure in her head was pushing hard against her brain, threatening to break through and take over her mind. She rubbed her temples and took a deep breath. "Until I figure out what the hell is going on, you two are not going to leave my sight." Dean looked like he might object, but Sam elbowed him in the side.

"Sure, that's totally fine with us." He said quickly. Dean cast his younger brother a dark look. "Where do you want us to stay?" Connie replied without thinking.

"My house." Sam frowned.

"…No offense, but it seemed pretty small." She shook her head.

"No…That's not my house…It's a home away from home?" She surprised herself by saying that.

"I see." He said. "Well, do you need anything before we go to your place?" Connie nodded.

"I guess I need you to take me back…" She said, looking a bit sheepish. Dean chuckled, and got into the car. Sam and Connie followed suit, and they drove back to the house she shared with Evangeline. The lights were off except in Eva's bedroom, and Connie told them to wait outside while she got her stuff. Now that she had the chance to really look at her room, she noticed a lot of differences. The main one was the thick leather bound notebook on her desk that was overflowing with papers. She grabbed her duffel bag from her closet and placed it in there.

Connie swept the room, picking up all she might need. She almost went on autopilot. She opened the thick book that was under her bed, pulling out a large wad of cash from the hollow interior. She tossed it into the bag. She was sure she never had that much in her reality. Clothes and shoes went in next, really only a leather duster, a pair of lace up boots, and…A holster belt. Connie looked at it curiously. It had a place for several sharp objects, ammo, guns… She carefully placed the weapons into the bag as well. That was all she really thought she need, but as she left the room she turned back and poured salt over her window sill and in front of the door. She had no idea why.

She went and said goodbye to Eva, who stood up and hugged her, patting her back. "Going on that hunt?" Hunt? What in the world… Connie just nodded and smiled.

"Yeah…"

"You be safe." She told her friend. Connie nodded again and left, snagging a bottle of water from the fridge and her car keys. She opened the garage door, and popped the trunk to her car open. It was empty except for an old blanket, and she put the duffel bag into the trunk. The movement caused the blanket to be pushed back, and she noticed a handle in the floor of the trunk. Connie pulled the bag and blanket back out, and pulled on the handle.

A secret compartment popped open with ease, and a large box on a track was pushed slightly back. Connie grabbed the handle of the box, and pulled it forward. She opened the box, and was greeted by…An arsenal. Each weapon was well used and familiar to her. Was she really a hunter? Disturbed, she put everything back into place and quickly backed out of the garage. She honked at Sam and Dean to follow her, and took off on to a place she'd never been. It was like she had an internal GPS, though, and an hour later they arrived at a property deep in the mountains. It had a huge front field, and an even bigger estate. The front light glowed pleasantly. Connie drove around to a garage in the back, and even though it was empty, it could hold about ten cars.

As the Winchesters got out of the Impala, Dean let out a low whistle. "Nice place you've got here…" He said. She looked at him warily.

"Thanks…" They walked to a back door that Connie felt opened to the kitchen, and, taking a key front in the dirt of a potted rose bush next to the steps and unlocking the door, they entered. An elderly man was sitting at a table, reading a book. He looked up at the sound of their footsteps and his wrinkled face lit up with joy.

"Caroline!" He exclaimed. Connie was confused for a brief moment, but she found herself moving forward to embrace him.

"Frederick!" She laughed. In the back of her mind she remembered that this man was an old hunter who had helped raise her. It was funny that she knew this even though until now she had never met him before. He gave her a pat on the back.

"How have you been? You're a sight for good eyes." He winked at her. "A very good sight." Connie gave him an unimpressed look.

"None of that, we've guests." For the first time he noticed the Winchesters.

Frederick stood up as tall as he could and bowed at the waist. "Frederick Thompson; at your service." "He greeted them formally. Dean arched an eyebrow.

"You've a butler?" He asked Connie. She turned red and the old man looked irritated. Before she could rebuke Dean the man put his fists at his hips.

"I'll have you know I'm a willing helper of this estate, young man, and I was hunting nightmares long before you even began dreaming of them. You'd better show some respect before I beat it into you." Sam chuckled at Dean's surprise. Connie patted Frederick on the back.

"I've had a very long day, and Uncle Mason should be stopping by tomorrow. Is…Alexandria around?" Alexandria must be the chef. The old man shook his head.

"Went to bed already. I could make some sandwiches?" Connie smiled.

"Great. Make sure these two are fed enough, I've a feeling it's been a while." Sam and Dean just shrugged in agreement. "I'm going to go up to my room." Frederick nodded and turned intently to the Winchesters, and Connie gave them a grin before take leave.

Author's Note: I'd much appreciate reviews!


	4. Episode 4

Walking into the bedroom at the end of the hall on the third story that was supposed to be Connie's bedroom was like walking into a stranger's bedroom for the first time. It was completely foreign to her. Unlike her bedroom in her reality and in this one at the house she shared with Evangeline, this room was completely…Normal. It was almost like a room you'd expect at a motel. Looking in the room from the doorway, there was a little table with a couple of chairs to her left, and to her right was a small side table where she assumed she would put her personal effects. She set her duffel bag down by it and dropped the keys into a little ceramic bowl on the table top. A wall segment partially blocked the view from the rest of the room, and rounding it she saw a large, comfortable looking bed, a dresser next to the bed, a cabinet with a large television on it, a little countertop area with a few cupboards, and a couple of doors. The small double doors led to a decent closet, and the single door led to a bathroom. As Connie exited the bathroom she noticed a well stocked bookcase on the other side of the wall segment, and she noticed one other thing.

There were no windows. Well, there was one little one at the far end of the room, but other than that…None. It was sort of weird. Personally, Connie would go stir crazy if she spent too much time in here. Even when she spent most of her time at home in her room, she always had her window, which was nice and large and looked out on the backyard, cracked open for a breeze with the blinds up. She rubbed her hands together to warm them, and made her way back to the door. That was when she noticed the lock on the handle, the deadbolt, and the chain. Okay then… Just as she put her hand on the door handle an image flashed in her mind, and she slowly turned. There was an inconspicuous looking potted tree by the television, but she was suddenly aware of the door knob that was hidden behind the leaves. Going over to it, she moved the plant, and tried the handle. It was locked.

Studying the lock for a while, she did a three-sixty of the room. If she were her…Where would she hide a key? Maybe it was in the plant pot…Nope. There were no keys on any table or counter tops, in any drawers, cabinets, cupboards…She ran a hand under her mattress and checked for false books. Nothing. Connie sat on the edge of her bed, and ran a hand through her hair. She froze, surprised, and repeated the action. No way. Her hair didn't get cut off in the accident somehow, did it? Nope, the edge was too even. Her hair was a good five inches shorter! The ends barely reached past her chin. She jumped up and went to the closet, pulling open the door she'd noticed the mirror hanging from earlier. Connie gasped and took a step back away from the woman looking back at her. That wasn't her! Was it? There was no way.

Not only was her hair short, her body was leaner and more muscular, and her skin was tanned and weathered. There was a thick scar reaching from behind her right ear and barely kissing the corner of her jaw. She leaned forward, her nose touching the glass. Something was not right. Why would she be in this reality's version of her body? Maybe she didn't understand the French Mistake episode as well as she thought. Connie twisted this way and that, looking over herself. She had to admit…This reality's version of her was not too bad looking. Maybe once she got back to her own she'd tone up some. As she inspected her backside she noticed out the corner of her eye a familiar looking brown jacket.

Turning to look at it, Connie felt a smile grace her lips. Her father used to wear the jacket all the time; the leather was worn soft and smooth from all the use it took. Finally one day her mother had convinced him to wear a new one, and it was put into the box for Goodwill. Connie had secretly snuck it out of the box on its way to the donation center, and at home it hung over the back of her desk chair. It still smelled liked him, cigarette smoke mixed in with the smell of Irish Spring and leather. Cautiously she took a sniff of the jacket in 'her' closet, and felt disappointed. It barely reminded her of her father. Running her hands over the soft fabric on the inside of the jacket, she noticed a small lump. Pulling it out, she saw a small inside pocket, and she pulled out a key that would just fit the lock on that door.

Feeling triumphant, Connie slipped the jacket on and went to the door. The key fitted in with a snick, and once turned, opened easily. There was a light switch to her immediate right, and she flicked it on. A small light overhead turned on, illuminating a short staircase leading into some sort of level between the second and third stories. Descending the steps, she had to flick on another light, and a huge grin spread across her face. This was more like it. The room was simple, a basic wood floor, a wood panel wall, a handing light strip to see by. On two of the walls were weapon racks, varying from guns to knives to…She didn't even know what that was. Fold out tables were covered with papers, it was much like her room in a way, except this was real. Her handwriting was scrawled over various articles, and she picked up another notebook like the one in her duffel.

This was one new, the pages hardly used up. It seemed dedicated to one topic, but she'd get to it all later. She felt a wave of nausea, much like what she felt in the grocery store. Connie had to sit down on a folding chair with her head between her knees for a good minute before she felt good enough to stand, let alone walk. Letting out a shaky breath, she got up, and left the room, turning the lights out and locking the door again before going back downstairs to the Winchesters and Frederick. They were all sitting at the kitchen table, the two younger men enjoying one of Frederick's amazing sandwiches. They must have been talking about her, because when Connie entered the room they stopped talking, and Dean suppressed a grin. Frederick looked pretty pleased with him. "What were you talking about?" She asked him suspiciously. The old man pursed his lips and shrugged.

"Oh, nothing." He demurred.

"He was telling us about your very first hunt." Dean chuckled. Connie felt her face grow warm.

"Oh, Frederick! That was embarrassing! You said you wouldn't tell anyone." She complained. Memories flashed in her mind as she spoke. It had been her very first solo hunt, and it didn't go too well. A ghost was haunting an elementary school, and while she'd gotten the thing, she'd come out covered paste and glitter. In fact, she knew that her father had a picture of it in his wallet. She felt sad suddenly, but she didn't know why. Slowly she sat down in a chair, and they all looked at her curiously. Connie gave them all a quick grin. "I didn't realize how tired I was. I suppose getting hit by a chair wiped me out." Fredrick exclaimed.

"What happened?!" He demanded. Sam and Dean all of a sudden looked very interested in their coffee cups. He turned a sharp glare on them. "You hit my Caroline with a car?" Connie reached out to touch his arm.

"I'm fine, Fred." He jerked his arm away, and stood, putting his fists on his hips.

"You boys listen up. If you hurt Caroline away, so much as a paper cut, you're gonna answer to me." She sighed, exasperated, but had to smile. The two were as close as father and daughter.

Dean chuckled. "We would never purposefully hurt her, we promise." He said, Sam nodding in agreement.

"Okay, you lot." Connie grumped. She didn't really enjoy attention on herself. "Go find a room, they're all empty. I'll see you in the morning." Dean and Sam rose, bid goodnight to Fredrick, and followed her up the first flight of stairs. "So, uh, this is where people stay…" Dean arched an eyebrow at her.

"You've got a whole story just for guests?" Connie nodded after a moment.

"My father and uncle set this place up for hunters to rest at when they're in the area." Again, she had no idea how she knew this. It freaked her out, to be honest. It was like she had somebody else's memories. "There's a small bathroom attached to every other room. If you get hungry, there's a fridge in the kitchen with snacks and drinks…Yeah. Good night." The guys return it, and wandered into separate rooms. With a final look, Connie went back up to her room.

(This is a relatively short chapter, and I'm sorry it took so long. Living the Life is taking up my time. Anyway, the pace will soon build. Please review!)


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